Slow Day
by Channel D
Summary: What does Director Shepard do when not much is going on at the office? It helps to have another party, like Cynthia, close by to participate in expert trouble-making. One shot, humor, non-slash.


**Slow Day**

**by channelD**

_written_: just for fun. What _does_ an agency head do on a slow day?  
_rating_: K  
_genre_: humor (I hope!)  
_characters_: Jenny & Cynthia, non-slash

- - - - -

_Disclaimer:_ Yes, I still own nothing of NCIS.

- - - - -

It was quiet. _Too quiet,_ Jenny suddenly noticed. Only moving her head a smidge, her gaze swept her office. Seated at her desk, as she was, with her back to the wall, there was no way something could come up behind her. The office appeared to be normal…just…_quiet_. She had no appointments, no place she had to be, no urgent business for the agency. And the quiet hung about her like a fog.

This made her smile slightly. She could turn this to her advantage. There were better things than just taking the day off.

She reached for her desk phone and hit the speed dial for Cynthia's extension. "Cynthia, could you bring me the file on the Lorizzano case?"

"_Yes, Director. Right away."_

Jenny checked the time on the computer clock. 10:14. Cynthia's personal worst record for tracking down a file which Jenny knew was _not_ in the building, and giving up on the search for same, was 123 minutes. That was three wild goose chases ago, though, and Cynthia was either getting savvier in searching, or giving up sooner without reason, or was getting on to Jenny. Next time, Jenny really would have to hide a file in a place where it could be found (sooner or later). This particular file was already at the DA's office, having been sent there by courier an hour ago.

She settled down, humming, and perused the clipping service reports of online mentions of NCIS. There were staff who read these daily, of course, but she liked to keep a hand in when she had time (which wasn't often enough). The minutes ticked on: four…five…seven…nine…

"_Director?"_ Cynthia, of course, on the phone. _"I'm, uh, having a little trouble finding the Lorizzano file. Who had it last?"_

_Blast_. She _would_ ask that. "Agent Fife, I think," she said as inspiration hit. Agent Fife had just gone undercover in Baghdad. Good luck reaching him.

"_Uh, thank you, Director. I'll report back."_

Jenny wasn't entirely sure how Cynthia searched for things, but was increasingly convinced she used a network of contacts in the building for clues. Not a bad idea, and probably necessary.

At 11:03, Cynthia knocked and entered Jenny's office. She looked remorseful. "I'm terribly sorry, Director, but the file doesn't seem to be _anywhere!_ Let me do a few other things and clear my mind, then I'll get back on it. Or should I ask Agent Fife's team leader to reconstruct the file?"

_No!_ "I like your first idea better," Jenny said smoothly. "Do other things, and then look again after lunch. It has to be _somewhere_, right?" She said that with a friendly smile.

Cynthia smiled back, relieved. "Yes, Director. Thank you, Director." She went out.

- - - - -

As a person in high position, Jenny's lunch hour floated all over the place (and a lot of the time, she had to go without a lunch.) But she felt hungry around noon that day, and decided that lunch was what she needed. Again, she got on the phone. "Cynthia, I'm going to run over to the food court and grab something. I'll bring it back here to eat. I'll leave now, and I shouldn't be gone more than 15-20 minutes."

"Um…Director, you have that appointment with the CNO (Chief of Naval Operations) at 12:20…"

"I have _what??"_ Jenny frantically called up her appointment log on her computer. "I don't see _any_ appointments for today, for anyone, Cynthia…" _Oh, no…oh, no…_

"_Director, I told you about this Monday when he called, when you were out at lunch. It's on _my_ calendar. I do remember you saying _'_fine' when I told you about it…" _Her tone was worried, on behalf of her boss.

_You probably did tell me, and I was so rattled by Gibbs' team's newest case that I forgot to write it down. Dang the agency rules that prevent Cynthia from updating my computer!_ Her breathing grew labored. "Did he say…do you know what the meeting's about?" She didn't fear the CNO; he wasn't her boss, the SECNAV was. But still, she hated to appear to be a fool in front of him.

"_No, Director. He just said you would know."_

_I haven't even talked to Billy in two or three months!_ "Okay…I'll wait on lunch, then. You can go now, if you like."

"_Thank you, Director! I've been dying to try that retro diner that just opened on 8th St. They close at 2, you know, and today they're giving out free ice cream sundaes with each meal."_

"Enjoy it." With a small measure of self-pity, Jenny sat back to wait. And she waited, and waited.

At 1:45 p.m. she called the CNO's office. The young E2 who answered the phone said the CNO was in London, and could she take a message for the Director? After giving a polite _no thanks_, Jenny hung up, and glared at the wall separating her and Cynthia.

She called Cynthia again. "Have you found the Lorizzano file yet, Cynthia?"

"_Yes, I did!"_ Cynthia sang out, to Jenny's surprise_. "The DA's office had it! They're sending it back by courier and it should be here within the hour."_

_Drat! Drat! Drat! Now I have to think of an excuse for when the DA calls, looking for it._ "Thank you so much, Cynthia," she said, trying to filter strength back into her voice.

"_You're entirely welcome, Director."_ Cynthia said happily. Jenny sat back and scowled.

- - - - -

When 2:30 came, Jenny had just opened her door to go grab a coffee and a pastry from the M Street Café, and her eyes widened on seeing Cynthia , who looked bewildered. Three deliverymen were impatiently competing for her attention.

"But I didn't order 30 cases of rulers!" she said to one. "Nor did I order 1000 tins of flavored popcorn! There's obviously some mistake!" she said to the second. "And there is no way on God's green earth that I would have ordered five 10-foot-long party submarine sandwiches, much less with extra pickles and sides of herring! Who here eats herring, anyway?! _Director!!"_ She cried as she finally saw her boss, and her look was pleading.

"I'm sure there's a simple explanation," Jenny said pleasantly. "May I see the order slips?" She studied the papers the deliverymen handed her. "Oh, now, see, here's the mistake," she said to the popcorn man, kindly. "My secretary is C. Sumner. This was to go to C. _Sumpter_ in building 114. And the rulers, hmmm. No, the name on this is D. Summers. No one here by that name. I think there's a Denise Summers at the CIA, at their building #111. I can't explain the sandwiches, though. Cynthia, please put the sandwiches on account and notify everyone that we'll have free treats in the break rooms at 3. Break out the soda I ordered last week."

"Yes, Director," Cynthia sighed with relief, and Jenny went back into her office.

The cost was worth it, as was getting a little revenge on the ruler store and the popcorn factory for poor customer service in the past.

- - - - -

Something actually came up in this slow day that required Jenny's attention. At 3:15 she headed downstairs to ask Gibbs about his current case, since a news leak from somewhere was giving NCIS a bruised, if not black, eye. Once satisfied that his people were working to resolve the case quickly, and her PR people were doing their placating thing, she went back to the quiet of her office. _Quiet. Nice, quiet…_

She jumped when an alarm clock went off. _What the—?_ There were no alarm clocks in her office; of course there wouldn't be! She looked in all the drawers, under her desk and the tables, and on her display case, but it stopped ringing before she could get a clue as to its location.

Then, after a few minutes, another alarm clock started ringing. Not the same one; this had a different tone. Again Jenny searched without luck before the ringing stopped.

When the third alarm clock went off, Jenny thrust open the window, convinced that maybe the sound was coming from outside…

…and knocked five wind-up alarm clocks off the sill, and into the shrubs below the window. She half-considered diving after them (after putting on gloves) to get fingerprints from them, but decided that a third-floor jump was not in her lasting best interests. She could simply go down the elevator and out the front door to retrieve them, but that seemed like a lot of work. And she had a good idea who the culprit was, anyway.

She marched to her door. "Cynthia," she said severely, then modified her tone a bit. "Cynthia, do you know what time it is?"

Cynthia could put on the most amazingly innocent, large-eyed smile. "Why yes, Director. It's 4:10. But you're usually on top of the time. It's like you're always running an alarm clock!"

_Don't push it, lady. _"Yes. 4:10. That's what I thought. Cynthia, the day's almost over. Why don't you knock off early? I'm staying in town to catch a show, anyway."

"Thank you, Director!" Cynthia's smile turned sparkly. "Enjoy your show!" She grabbed her purse and was gone before either of them could come up with a reason why she should stay.

Jenny went back to her office. She would not accuse Cynthia of any of the day's happenings. Neither of them would ever make an accusation to the other; never.

It was all part of what made their occasional slow days so much fun.

- END -


End file.
